The Brightest Days
Simona Ferrucci
Just like a diamond on the forehead
Staring at the ground
My lucid violence is coming
Twisting all around
My quite damnation is waiting
For a punishment:
The wiser's compassion and laughters
And confinement
As windows steams on the evening
Of a winter day
Or stars keep crying in the ceiling
Their blasphemous prayers
I could still hear my voice screaming
From the other room
And could remember the close hugs
Of a tired womb
I was still living the brightest days
I was still living the brightest days
The more you push me to the light
The more my blackest part is bright